


Beaten, Not Broken

by agentx13 (rebelle_elle)



Category: Captain America (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Dark fic, Dom/sub Undertones, Gen, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 21:51:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2125887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelle_elle/pseuds/agentx13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Madame Hydra wants revenge on Steve for killing her husband, Codename Bravo. Unable to attack him directly, though, she  captures Sharon Carter and tortures her out of revenge. Sharon naturally resolves to escape before she can be broken, but as time goes by and cracks start to form, cracks begin to form in Madame Hydra's facade as well. Meanwhile, Madame Hydra and Baron Zemo are working together again, and Sharon has to find a way to stop them. But can she? Does she even want to anymore?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beaten, Not Broken

Sharon gasped, the sharp burst of air hurting her lungs. Before she could cough to clear her lungs, something hit her in the ribs and her body instantly felt as if it were on fire.

Her head fell onto her chest as the sensation faded. Slowly, the ringing in her ears faded. She tried to move her hands to rub them, but she couldn’t feel them. She opened her eyes, and her vision swam. The fire returned, and she whimpered as the pain eased, then coughed as her vision cleared. Her throat felt as if she’d swallowed handfuls of dust.

Reddish-brown swam in her vision, and for a moment, she thought it was Natasha. The person was too tall, though, and her features were cold and sharp despite her beauty. Sharon would have recognized her by the twisted smile, but the green outfit would have tipped her off regardless.

She clenched her jaw. “Hydra.” She spat the word out as best she could, but her voice was rough, and it cracked halfway through the word.

She barely saw Madame Hydra’s hand lift before it struck her in the cheek. Sharon gasped and automatically tried to catch herself when she fell, but she stayed upright. The movement made her shoulders, back, and legs ache. Still gasping for breath, Sharon lifted her head enough to see that her wrists had been chained together and thrown over a hook on the ceiling. She must have been strung up long enough for her arms to go numb. Dizzy, she dropped her head to see that her feet, too, had been chained together. They dangled inches above the ground, kept in place by a chain attached to a metal rod. No wonder she couldn’t move. 

Before she could lift her head again, Madame Hydra struck her with a cattle prod, and electricity spread through her body again. Her muscles seized and shook before going lax. 

Madame Hydra lifted Sharon’s head up by the hair. “Your boyfriend took my husband from me. You will pay for that.”

Sharon tasted blood in her mouth and wondered if she’d bit herself or if she’d suffered internal damage and was coughing up blood. Nonetheless, she couldn’t suppress her dark grin. “Realized you weren’t strong enough to take on Steve, huh?”

Madame Hydra hit her with the cattle prod again. Sharon fought the urge to scream in pain, but she was vaguely aware of a scream tearing at her throat before her world went dark.

* * *

Sound blasted in her ears, startling Sharon awake. It took her a few seconds to realize that the darkness persisted even when her eyes were open. Something heavy was on her head, covering her ears.

Blindfold, she thought. A mild form of sensory deprivation. And headphones were for sleep deprivation. 

As if her SHIELD training hadn’t prepared her for this. What did HYDRA think SHIELD agents went through during training? A couple rounds of poker and a baseball game?

She closed her eyes and nearly managed to sleep before the volume in the headphones increased drastically, the white noise changing to something with a heavier beat.

All right, Sharon thought wryly. So maybe Madame Hydra had prepared better than Sharon had given her credit for. This might be more of a challenge than she’d thought.

* * *

It wasn’t until her hunger pains faded that she realized she must have been her for at least three days. She couldn’t tell if the headache was from her lack of sleep or lack of hunger, if the muscle pains were from her previous torture or a side effect of the starvation. Her eyes felt like they were covered with sandpaper. When she could still swallow, her throat felt as if she’d swallowed dirt. Behind her, her wrists were tied to some sort of bar raised off the ground, making it impossible to stay comfortable for long without moving. The bar was too close to the wall to sit on. To avoid twisting her arms uncomfortably, she had to squat until her muscles burned and cramped. Another torture method.

When the blindfold was finally removed, she was blinded by the yellow light in the room. Before, it had seemed dim. Now, it made her eyes hurt. She closed them and ducked her head with a groan. The headphones disappeared, and Sharon shuddered as her ears adjusted to near silence. She peered around the room through slitted eyes, her gaze settling on Madame Hydra. She trembled again as Madame Hydra leaned into her to untie Sharon’s wrists.

Free at last, Sharon didn’t move. Her cheek was on Madame Hydra’s shoulder, red hair tickling her temple, and her eyes were firmly affixed on the doorway. She could make herself move. She needed food. She would have to get food somehow. She’d have to come up with something. 

She slowly realized that Madame Hydra was smoothing Sharon’s hair, even humming what sounded like a lullaby.

What the ever-loving fuck?

Sharon’s eyes slid away from the doorway, and she forced herself to lift her head.

“Finally feeling better?” Madame Hydra asked. She pulled away and got to her feet. Sharon's head swayed as she tried to keep her eyes on the woman as Madame Hydra rose. The effort made her breath quicken. Madame Hydra smiled down at her in understanding. "Come. Let me take care of you."

Sharon frowned. She knew she didn't have the power to let or not let Madame Hydra do something to her. Not now. If she could get her strength up, perhaps. But for right now, Madame Hydra wasn't offering her anything, she was demanding it.

Nonetheless, Sharon didn't fight or argue when Madame Hydra helped her up and half-carried her to a bed. Sharon blinked at it. Madame Hydra had put an entire four-poster bed put in while Sharon was being tortured.

She knew she should be more offended, but as soon as she hit the mattress, she was sinking in gratefully. Her eyelids fluttered. She didn't see Madame Hydra's hand until after it had struck her cheek.

Madame Hydra pushed her up and sat beside her, a thumb stroking Sharon's stinging cheek. "I'm sorry about that, Sharon. I didn't want to strike you. I just need you awake. Here, darling." She reached for something out of Sharon's vision and then stuck something underneath Sharon's chin. She guided a straw to Sharon's lips.

Sharon tasted something sweet, almost terribly so. Every particle seemed to stick to her mouth, and her throat seemed scratchy rather than painfully dry. It took her a moment to remember that people recovering from starvation had to be given fruit juices at first. Madame Hydra was nursing her back to health. 

It couldn't be a good sign. 

She forced herself to drink it. She'd have to build up her strength again in order to get free, and that meant playing along for now. Once she was done, she let her head rest against Madame Hydra's shoulder. Her other cheek was slapped. 

"Do you want to sleep, Sharon?"

Sharon tried to speak, but her voice came out at only a croak. In the end, she nodded. Of course she wanted to sleep. She'd nearly fallen asleep twice. 

"Then ask me for permission." Madame Hydra smiled down at her, slowly stroking Sharon's hair. "Be sure to say please."

The blonde bit the inside of her cheek. She'd been humiliated before. She could do this. She would survive. "Please."

Madame Hydra's other hand rose to stroke Sharon's cheek. "Please what?"

"Please let me go to sleep."

Madame Hydra kissed Sharon's temple. "Of course. Let's get you tucked in. Isn't that what they say here? 'Let's get you tucked in.' Quaint people, aren't you." Madame Hydra pulled Sharon to her feet and pulled back the covers, helping Sharon underneath. Once Sharon was in, Madame Hydra pulled the blankets up to her shoulders and sat beside her, running her fingers through Sharon's hair. 

Sharon didn't have to worry about trying to ignore it. She was asleep before it could even bother her.

* * *

She woke up to music blaring in her ears again, the blindfold back in place. This time her arms were tied behind her back to the pipe and her ankles, preventing her from sitting. She wasn't sure how much time had passed since she'd fallen asleep, but the hunger pains started again soon after.

As before, Madame Hydra didn't let her drink or rest until long after the pains faded. Again, Madame Hydra took care of her. 

It had happened at least seven times before Madame Hydra made Sharon bathe. Sharon wasn't sure if it was because she'd started to smell or because it was meant to humiliate her more, as she was too weak to bathe herself and Madame Hydra had to help her. It was almost worth it to be able to sleep in the bed again. She didn't even mind that Madam Hydra tucked her in once more.

In the morning, though, or what passed for morning in windowless room, she was awakened by Madame Hydra dragging her out of bed and over to the chains hanging from the ceiling. The cuffs were easy to reach, but once Sharon's wrists were enclosed within them, Madame Hydra went to a lever on the wall and turned it until Sharon's toes could barely touch the floor.

She fingered the coiled whip at her waist as she studied Sharon. "I hate to do this," Madame Hydra murmured as she walked closer and circled Sharon like an inquisitive shark. "But I meant it when I said I wanted to see you suffer." 

Sharon opened her mouth to point out what little sense that made, but Madame Hydra anticipated her and slapped her sharply across the face.

"I hope you weren't thinking of questioning me, Sharon." Madame Hydra smiled at her. "You don't get to question me."

Sharon slowly pressed her lips together. She understood what Madame Hydra was saying, and what she was saying between the lines. Madame Hydra was going to lure her into messing up so she could justify hurting Sharon some more. Not an original idea, but potentially effective.

It wouldn't be effective if Sharon didn't give her the chance. 

She made a point of keeping her mouth shut throughout the beating. She lost track of the hits before her tears began to slip down her cheeks and her nose started to run. The whimpers and startled yelps were quiet, though. Judging by Madame Hydra's smile when she heard them, Sharon did well to keep them quiet. The woman was enjoying her pain too much.

Sharon wasn't sure how long this bout lasted, either. Madame Hydra left, and once the burning sensation from the strikes faded, Sharon felt something tickling the backs of her legs. It took her a while to realize it was blood, and she hung her head and watched with disinterest as a steady red stream flowed sluggishly toward the drain in the floor. She didn't realize she'd passed out until Madame Hydra returned for another beating, all the while talking about how she hated hurting Sharon like this but had to teach her a lesson. 

Madame Hydra didn't let her down until she'd visited five more times. One touch of the lever, and Sharon fell to the floor, too weak to catch herself or push herself back up. She shivered as Madame Hydra bent over and brushed the hair out of Sharon's face. Sharon tried to remember the stages of blood loss, but her mind was fuzzy. Dizziness started after losing a liter and a half... How much did she have to lose before she shook this badly?

"Sharon. You really must stop making me punish you like this." She ran a hand over Sharon's shoulder. "I dislike getting blood on my floor. You know that. What if you were to get it on the sheets of the bed? Then I'd really have to punish you." She wrapped her hands under Sharon's arms and dragged her to the bath, laying her down beside it. "But I'll take care of you. My honored husband would want that."

Sharon's teeth were chattering too badly for her to reply. Instead, she lay motionless, barely flinching as Madame Hydra washed her wounds with a warm, wet cloth. She drifted in and out of consciousness, only vaguely aware of Madame Hydra carefully cleaning and bandaging her wounds and washing her hair. She passed out before Madame Hydra was done.

When she awoke, her head rested in Madame Hydra's lap, and Madame Hydra was playing with her hair. More than the torture, this twisted Sharon's stomach. Steve played with her hair. Madame Hydra doing the same was subversive and detestable. 

Madame Hydra saw that she was awake and brushed some hair lightly out of her face. "People heal so much more slowly here. I was in a coma for months." She looked up with a haughty sniff. "My husband would never have allowed that to happen if we were home."

Sharon barely kept herself from reminding her that Codename Bravo was dead. "What ifs" were useless.

"It took my hair almost a year to grow back. They shaved it, you know, when they were trying to repair the damage to my brain."

Sharon grimaced to herself. Whatever damage Madame Hydra had experienced, she'd obviously never experienced lessons in overreactions. To capture and torture her like this was going overboard.

Not that it wouldn’t be effective. Sharon knew too much about breaking people to think she could escape. If Madame Hydra had her long enough, she would start to break. She had to escape.

“Aren’t you glad my hair grew back, Sharon?” Madame Hydra’s voice was cold. 

Sharon looked up at her. “I’m glad your hair grew back.” Her voice was quiet, uncertain and hesitant, and Madame Hydra smiled down at her.

“A good answer.” The smile disappeared as if it had never existed. “But one you failed to give soon enough.”

This beating, Sharon lost consciousness sooner. It was the only good thing that happened that day.

* * *

She lost track of the beatings. She lost track of the number of times Madame Hydra held her and soothed her, struck her, starved her, fed her, bathed her, bloodied her. She didn’t know how long it had been since she’d seen daylight. It was another form of torture. There were moments where she could feel the cracks forming, feel memories die. She started listing the names and traits of all the people she could remember, over and over and over again, and then it dawned on her that she was forgetting things about herself. She wasn’t even certain how old she was anymore. She added herself to the list, even though it made her feel more like a cartoon character than a person.  
She was going through one such list while cuffed to a bar near the floor - yet another position Madame Hydra thought would torture her after a while - when the door opened. Sharon looked up immediately, alert for any clues from Madame Hydra about what she wanted. She hated that she had the reaction.

She also hated that it wasn’t Madame Hydra who entered, but Baron Zemo. She remembered him. She hated remembering him. How was it that she was afraid to forget her friends, but she remembered Zemo without having to try?

Sharon tensed as he closed the door behind him and watched her for several moments before walking over. He lowered himself to meet her eyes and ran a gloved hand across her cheek. “I must admit, when Grace said she had captured you, I thought I’d find you looking worse.” His tone held hints of a smile, and it got worse as he continued, “Still have those deadly instincts I was so fond of?”

“Come closer and find out.” Her voice, hoarse and sore from too little water, came out as little more than a whisper.

“Gladly.” He leaned forward, and Sharon pulled back so she could headbutt him harder. He anticipated her move, though, and grabbed her jaw hard enough to bruise. The other hand lifted his mask to his nose, and Sharon’s eyes widened as she felt his flesh against her lips, hard and rough and coarse. She struggled to turn her head away, but he only laughed quietly, held her tighter, and deepened the kiss. “I should have captured and tortured you myself years ago,” he mused.

She felt his free hand slide to her neck and closed her eyes. She would survive this. She would survive _all_ of this. And then she would get revenge on a scale that would terrify all the terrorist organizations across the globe.

And then he was gone, his teeth tearing at her lip as he fell to the floor.

Sharon blinked up at Madame Hydra in confusion. She couldn’t remember if she’d ever seen Madame Hydra this angry before.

“I told you, Baron. The woman is mine to punish until her debt is paid! You are not to be near her.”

Zemo rubbed at his ear as he sat up. “You won’t be able to break her alone, your highness. You need help. My help.”

“I do not need your help in his matter, Baron. I do not need _anyone’s_ help in this matter.” Madame Hydra’s eyes blazed. “You will leave. Immediately.”

Zemo silently got to his feet. “As you wish, your highness.”

“The _compound._ ” Madame Hydra’s voice was pure ice. “I have given you a task. See that it is completed. And do not make me regret my alliance with you anymore than I already do.”

Zemo bowed. Had he bowed that much before? Sharon watched him carefully. What had Madame Hydra done to him to make Zemo act so submissive?

Likely nothing, she thought carefully. Zemo wasn’t the sort to be submissive. He most likely wanted something and was using Madame Hydra to get it. 

Madame Hydra stared at her until Sharon finally met her eyes. “Did you like that, Sharon?”

Sharon shook her head.

“Did you want it?”

She shook her head again, her brow furrowing. How could Madame Hydra think she would ever want that? 

“Good.” Madame Hydra didn’t speak again, but she leaned over to uncuff Sharon. She helped Sharon bathe, then fed her before tucking her in. Her hands were firm but careful the entire time, and though Sharon looked at her often, Madame Hydra didn’t make eye contact once.

* * *

When she woke the next morning, she was still in the bed. Madame Hydra seemed to have been up for hours already, reading from a stack of papers at a small table she must have had brought in. She set them aside when she saw Sharon was awake and stared at her. 

Sharon had never had much patience for people who stared at her and flatly stared back.

“Does that happen often here?” Madame Hydra asked.

“Does what happen often here?” Sharon croaked back.

Madame Hydra sighed and moved to the bed. Perching on its edge, she took a cup of fruit juice from the bedside table and pressed it to Sharon’s lips, helping her drink. “He forced himself on you.”

Sharon coughed out a laugh. To think that a kiss was forcing himself on her... But it was, wasn’t it? She was accustomed to thinking that when people forced themselves on others it was rape, plain and simple; kissing wasn’t on the same level. But Madame Hydra was right. It was merely a matter of degrees. “It happens.”

“If I hadn’t arrived, what would he have done?”

Sharon met her eyes. “Raped me,” she said flatly. “Most likely.”

“Even though you are under my ownership.”

Don’t argue that, Sharon. As much as you want to, don’t argue it. “Yeah. He wouldn’t care so long as he got what he wanted.”

“Hm.” Madame Hydra helped her sip some more juice - she was still too weak to do it on her own - but her eyes were distant. Once the cup was empty, she roused herself. “Stand.”

Shakily, and with more help than she cared to admit, Sharon managed to stand beside the bed. She was surprised when Madame Hydra pulled her arms through something, even more surprised to find that, for the first time since she’d woken up here, she was clothed. Sure, the dress was mostly shapeless, and it was the garish green color of a HYDRA uniform and had obviously been made from scratch, but she was clothed. She ran a thumb over the material. As rough as it was, it felt glorious.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes...” But what was the catch?

Madame Hydra nodded, not seeming to notice Sharon’s doubt as to her motives. “Good. You will be wearing more clothes from here on out. Now get in bed before you fall over.”

Sharon, confused, was only too happy to obey.

* * *

The shapeless dress wasn’t all Madame Hydra gave her. A henchman visited, and under Madame Hydra’s watchful eye, Sharon’s measurements were taken. Soon after, she had a small wardrobe of green clothing. Most were dresses that did little to keep her warm, and some had been built to restrict her breathing or bloodflow. They did, however, keep her warmer, even if Madame Hydra caused her to faint multiple times while testing them.

She soon realized that the dresses were for leaving the room. After the encounter with Zemo, Madame Hydra seemed loathe to leave Sharon alone. The new experience gave Madame Hydra new opportunities to punish her for breaking the rules, though, and Sharon grit her teeth as beatings resumed for each time she was too far away from Madame Hydra to grab, for each time she took too much interest in something other than Madame Hydra, for moving too much and drawing people’s attention away from Madame Hydra, for each time she spoke wherever someone other than Madame Hydra could hear. The torture was limited, though. Madame Hydra still used the uncomfortable positions, the beatings, the temperature changes, and now the restricting dresses, but at least Sharon was now allowed to eat each day.

Everything about her situation proclaimed to all that she was little more than a pet, Sharon noted wryly. When she was allowed to sit, her chair was always smaller, plainer. She was given less food and, on occasions when she was given silverware, it was always worn. She was always around Madame Hydra now, but Madame Hydra made it clear to all that Sharon was lesser. A plaything. A helpless trophy.

When others weren’t around, though, Madame Hydra relaxed as much as Sharon ever saw. She seemed to like taking care of Sharon, though Sharon knew she liked causing her pain just as much. What interested Sharon was how much Madame Hydra had started talking with her. They were usually questions about Sharon’s experiences growing up, what was normal for Earth children. It was evident that Madame Hydra had tried to teach herself about such things in her husband’s absence, but she didn’t see how _Leave It To Beaver_ or _I Love Lucy_ reruns could be realistic. Sharon, though she suspected a trick, still explained about the idealism of the shows and the social backdrop of the shows’ times.

Madame Hydra, braiding Sharon’s hair in the tub while Sharon slowly pruned, made a disapproving noise. “The shows did a terrible job of manipulating how people thought, then, if people were still aware of the events.” Sharon ground her teeth together as Madame Hydra pulled some hair too tightly. Maybe she shouldn’t have told Madame Hydra about girls braiding each other’s hair at sleepovers.

“You were better at that than they were,” Sharon said wryly. Her tone got her a light slap on her shoulder, and she wrinkled her nose and dropped into the water a couple inches in supposed obediance. She stopped when Madame Hydra tugged her hair to finish the braid. “They weren’t meant to manipulate, though. They were made to entertain and offer people escape. That’s why everything is so idealized.”

“People want a world without trouble,” Madame Hydra said in understanding.

Sharon shook her head, and this time, the slap was on her cheek, and harder. She went still. “People need challenges if they’re going to be better. It’s _Marriage of Heaven and Hell._ Bad things and good things, together, make better things.”

“I haven’t heard of it.”

“It’s a book,” Sharon said, lifting a hand from the water to try and judge how long she’d been there. She felt the tension on her braid ease as Madame Hydra prepared to slap her again and quickly lowered it again. “By William Blake.”

The braid dropped over the edge of the tub, and Sharon forced herself not to tense. It only made the hits hurt more, and she’d learned that if she acted as if she might get hit, Madame Hydra would actually hit her. 

Instead, though, Madame Hydra took the soap and began lathering Sharon’s skin. Sharon made no move in protest. Though she was stronger now, possibly even strong enough to fight, the intimacy no longer bothered her. And fighting now would get her nowhere.

“I’ll never understand how you got these scars,” Madame Hydra said, shaking her head. “Why didn’t someone protect you better?”

Sharon’s lips twisted. Despite wanting her to suffer, Madame Hydra had been careful not to cause Sharon too many scars. She suspected it had more to do with wanting to keep her new toy looking new than it was kindness.

Carefully, she lifted her arms and started pointing to various scars, recounting how she got them. Gun battles, knife fights, falling out of trees, all of it. “And no one was protecting me because I didn’t want to be protected.” She smiled to herself. “I really loved being a SHIELD agent.”

“Then you should have considered that before you crossed me,” Madame Hydra said coldly. Sharon felt a chill run down her spine. Instead of hitting her, though, Madame Hydra merely pointed to the scar on her stomach. “You didn’t explain how you got that one.”

Sharon stared at it. She remembered the fight with Sin. How close she had been to being a mother and how she’d tried to save her child from the Skull the only way she could, by losing her child altogether. “No. I didn’t.”

Madame Hydra’s tone was cold again. Regal. “Do so.”

The regal tone had to be obeyed, or else she was beaten again. Haltingly, staring more at her own fingers than anything else, she told.

Madame Hydra finished bathing her in silence. She dried Sharon off afterward, still silent. “What they did to you was monstrous,” she said at last. 

Sharon had been careful not to point out the scars she’d accrued under Madame Hydra’s protection. Now she pointed to one on her thigh, unable to stop herself. She’d just told a story of her worst torture to a woman who enjoyed torturing her. She could have had a child if not for people like her. She could have had a family, Christmases with screaming children and a car with candy melted into the seats. She could have had that, and now she didn’t know if she ever would. “Takes one to know one, doesn’t it.”

The beating was even more severe than she’d suspected. It didn’t improve matters when Madame Hydra took a moment to catch her breath and Sharon smiled at her. “Told you so.”

She was almost glad Madame Hydra didn’t let her lie down for the next several days.

* * *

Sharon was back in Madame Hydra’s constant company, if not her good graces, sometime later, and it didn’t take her long to see why. Zemo was back, returned from some mission, and Madame Hydra kept Sharon closer than ever. Sharon was on ice too thin to point out that forcing her to sit on the top step or on the floor by Madame Hydra’s throne-like seat ruined the picture.

She glared at Zemo nearly as much as Madame Hydra did. She knew that the tight leash was due to his presence. The more restrictive and thicker dresses, too, most likely, though she wasn’t sure if it might not be a continuation of her punishment. 

Madame Hydra didn’t speak to her the entirety of her first day out. When they returned to Madame Hydra’s room, Madame Hydra gestured for her to sit at a table where a meal had been set out. It was more food than she was accustomed to eating, but Sharon was glad to indulge. The bath was after, with Sharon continuing to follow visual cues rather than verbal orders. Dried and dressed in a nightgown of Madame Hydra’s choosing, she stood to see whether she’d be allowed in the bed or not.

She was more than a little surprised when Madame Hydra pulled her into the bed herself. Sharon went along with it, even when Madame Hydra wrapped her arms around Sharon’s middle.

They lay there in silence until Sharon fell into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

The extra food became another of their rituals. Though in public, Madame Hydra continued to make it painfully clear that Sharon was to have less of everything, if anything, the public face didn’t transfer to the private one. In Madame Hydra’s room, Sharon was allowed to eat at Madame Hydra’s table, where her chair was the same height as Madame Hydra’s. She was allowed to use the pillows Madame Hydra used to laze about on. Madame Hydra even let Sharon braid her hair; it was a more interesting way to pass the time than simply sitting around as Madame Hydra read.

When Zemo left, Madame Hydra started giving Sharon chores that required her to move out of the set distance. Sharon wasn’t sure if it was a show of how much Madame Hydra had broken her or a test to see if she had, in fact, been broken, but she was careful to obey, returning to Madame Hydra’s side as soon as each chore was completed, whether it was delivering messages to the cook or returning Madame Hydra’s books to the paltry but growing compound library and getting new ones. 

She loved the chores. They gave her the opportunity to learn the layout of the building, expanding on her extremely limited knowledge. She still didn’t know where the base was. For someone who was so close to the person in charge, she knew precious little. She’d have to change that somehow. Now that she was stronger, her thoughts were more and more turned to escaping this place.

* * *

Talking to anyone but Madame Hydra wasn’t an option. If she asked anything more than directions to complete her chores, she was taken to her old room and beaten. If anyone did more than directly answer her questions, she never saw them again.

It took several beatings before she learned the new rules of how to interact with other people. Do not make direct eye contact. Do not speak more than needed. No touching, either on purpose or by accident.

She still carried the bruises when Zemo returned. She watched him from where she sat on the floor. Cocky. Full of himself. Whatever his mission had been, he’d succeeded. 

She looked to Madame Hydra, wondering what would happen to Zemo if he broke the rules. If anything happened. She turned her head back to Zemo. It would only be a matter of time before he looked at her. He wouldn’t be able to help himself.

When Zemo approached to give his report, he bowed deeply to Madame Hydra and kissed her hand. “I have news, my queen. Perhaps we could speak in private of how it may affect our plans?”

Sharon fought the urge to roll her eyes. He was just as cloying as before, his lips lingering on her hand like that. Monopolizing Madame Hydra’s attention.

But whatever Zemo’s mission had been, it must have been one Madame Hydra didn’t want everyone to know about. She stood and nodded, waving to the others to go about their business before she turned to a hallway. Sharon followed silently, a small hope springing to life that she may find out what they intended. If she could find a way to escape after... But she had more hope of finding out their plans than of escape. The leash was still too tight. She was still watched. And missteps could result in beatings that could make her nearly helpless.

When they reached the door of a room Sharon had never been inside, though, Madame Hydra turned to her and pointed a finger at the ground. “Sit. Stay.”

Sharon sat and hugged her knees, trying to ignore the air of amusement from Zemo as he and Madame Hydra disappeared inside.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d sat there, surrounded and watched over by Hydra agents before the door opened again.

Madame Hydra’s red hair flowed as she stuck her head out. “Sharon. Join us.”

Sharon quickly got to her feet, ignoring how stiff her muscles were, and followed Madame Hydra inside.

“Baron Zemo doubts your loyalty.”

As well he should; she was a SHIELD agent, not a terrorist. Sharon kept her mouth shut, though, looking at Madame Hydra with blank eyes.

“As such, I will be giving you a test. Take these papers to the communications hub without looking at them. You ought to know how to use the technology. Send it as instructed and return to me.”

Sharon nodded and took the papers Madame Hydra handed her. Outside, she left the door open so Madame Hydra and Zemo both could hear Sharon ask directions to the communications hub from one of the agents. Once she’d found her way there, she sent the information in the papers to the numbers as she’d been told and quickly made her way back to Madame Hydra. She schooled her features on the way there, not wanting to look pleased that she now had contact information for Hydra’s allies and knew where the communications were. If she could get a message through to SHIELD...

“There, you see, Baron?” Madame Hydra smiled as Sharon reappeared and petted Sharon’s hair. “Like a well-trained puppy. Ask any of my agents and they’ll tell you that she behaved exactly as I’ve trained her to.”

Sharon kept her eyes on the floor.

“It’s dangerous to trust a fox in the henhouse, your majesty,” Zemo said tactfully.

* * *

Sharon’s heart beat harder that night as Madame Hydra tucked her in. She dared not try to slip out tonight. Zemo, at the very least, would expect her to make her move at the earliest opportunity. No, she had to wait.

Madame Hydra draped an arm over Sharon’s middle. “You will stay close to me until Zemo leaves,” she murmured into Sharon’s hair. “Unless I give you express orders otherwise. Am I understood?”

Sharon nodded and pressed herself against Madame Hydra for warmth.

Madame Hydra pulled the covers over Sharon’s shoulders. “I asked if I was understood, Sharon.”

She swallowed. “Yes. I understand.” She understood that Madame Hydra didn’t want Sharon alone with Zemo and would rather send her away than have her in his company. She understood she now knew the location of the communications hub. She understood she might be able to use the information she had to save herself and stop whatever they were plotting.

She closed her eyes as Madame Hydra kissed her temple, a gesture she’d learned from old television shows. But instead of falling asleep immediately, Sharon forced herself to remember as much as she could about SHIELD’s contact numbers.

* * *

Zemo was unconvinced by Sharon’s earlier display of loyalty, and as she nibbled at her bread at breakfast - slower eating made it last longer - he suggested a new challenge to Madame Hydra. “Though you are capable of great things, Madame Hydra, I can’t help but think she’s tricking you. She was trained as a spy, after all. Mockingbird lived undercover on AIM Island for months without breaking.”

“She wasn’t tortured as much as Sharon,” Madame Hydra said, amused.

“But your new pet has been brainwashed before and broken her conditioning on her own. Faustus still talks about studying her.”

Sharon felt a chill go down her spine at the thought of Faustus studying her. Only a twitch of Madame Hydra’s pinkie roused her enough to notice she’d stopped eating. Sharon quickly took another bite of bread and eyed the sliver of grapefruit on the plate. She had grown to dislike fruit and juice, but she knew she’d have to eat it to keep her strength up.

“You don’t believe I’ve broken her?” Madame Hydra’s voice had turned cold, and Sharon almost put her bread back on her plate, no longer hungry. But she knew she wouldn’t be able to eat again until Madame Hydra said so, and she wouldn’t get a full meal until they were alone. She forced herself to tear off another piece and chew it.

“I only wish you’ll let me test her once more.”

This time, Madame Hydra’s voice was frigid and quick. “You will have nothing to do with her, Baron. If you want to break a SHIELD agent, get your own.”

Zemo raised a placating hand. “I wouldn’t dream of taking her from you, your majesty.” Sharon, eyes steady on her plate, thought rude thoughts at him and took another bite of bread. It tasted like dirt. “But if you would feel more comfortable testing her yourself, I would of course be willing to agree.”

Madame Hydra sighed in impatience. “Spit it out, then. What is it?”

“Beat her.” Zemo’s tone was entirely reasonable and calm, as if discussing the weather. “In front of your agents. The Sharon Carter I esteemed would not accept such shame. If she does not fight back, I’ll be convinced.”

Madame Hydra didn’t answer.

Zemo sipped at his juice, and Sharon wondered if the nausea were due to him or real sickness. Madame Hydra would never let her go to a hospital. “You would have to replicate the beatings as closely as possible, but she must be able to fight.” He stabbed a piece of pineapple with a fork. “She’s naked when you torture her, is she not?”

Sharon set the piece of bread on the plate and left it alone. She’d rather go hungry later than vomit everything up at the table. She took a deep breath.

“You...” Madame Hydra began.

Zemo cut her off. “You must demonstrate your strength for your underlings, your highness. If you are fond of a SHIELD agent, it raises questions. If she is undermining you and you are keeping her alive...” He shrugged.

Sharon wanted to stab him.

“I have a full schedule today,” Madame Hydra said slowly. “And I will not leave her alone while she heals. I will show my strength tonight.” She stood, and Sharon slowly, her knees suddenly feeling weak, followed suit. “She will not be unclothed.”

Zemo chuckled. “Very wise, your highness.”

Madame Hydra swept from the room, and Sharon followed suit. She could feel Zemo’s eyes on her as she walked away.

* * *

Sharon had no concept of time anymore except for meals. No one wore a watch. There were no clocks on the walls. She suspected they were taken away when Sharon had been put on her leash, a way to keep her in the dark. If it wasn’t for Madame Hydra’s amusement, then it might be because Madame Hydra wasn’t truly convinced Sharon wasn’t broken.

Her doubts could result in a more severe beating.

Throughout the day, Madame Hydra answered and sent messages via paper. Few words were spoken. Sharon was given no chores. Madame Hydra hardly seemed aware of her presence at all. Not being spoken to was one thing, not being acknowledged was another. It occurred to Sharon how lonely it was not to able to speak with or make eye contact with any of the HYDRA agents around. She’d never cared before. But now, she would have liked for some kind of contact and could have none.

Lunch came, and Sharon studied the broth in distaste before forcing herself to have some. She managed to finish off the bowl, even though it took some effort after to keep the food down. At dinner, her plate remained empty. Madame Hydra told Zemo it was to keep the odds of Sharon’s vomiting down. She sounded cheerful.

After dinner, Madame Hydra led Sharon back to Madame Hydra’s rooms, and Sharon looked around in confusion. Madame Hydra had never beaten her here. Was she not going to be beaten at all?

But no, Madame Hydra directed her to stand still. Sharon watched in the mirror as Madame Hydra took off the restrictive dress that Sharon had to wear when Zemo was around, replacing it with one of the dresses that was little more than a nightgown. Sharon met her own eyes in the reflection before hastily dropping to the green dress. She felt sick and weak.

Still, when Madame Hydra told her to come, she did. Following orders was almost natural for her now, even when they came from Madame Hydra. Of course, she’d always been good at following orders, but now she had to wonder if she really had been broken. Had her hopes of escape been lies she told herself so she could survive?

They stopped at a familiar door, and Madame Hydra looked at her with silent expectation. 

Sharon steeled herself and opened the door. At Madame Hydra’s gesture, she went in first and moved automatically to stand over the grate in the floor. Hydra agents lined the walls, and she frowned at the unreasonable thought that they might mess up her cot.

“Face me.” Sharon turned toward Madame Hydra, noting Baron Zemo behind her. She fought the urge to glare at him as Madame Hydra trailed a whip through her fingers and began to slowly circle Sharon. She felt the hair on her arms rise. “You will not be chained today. If you fall, you must get up again so that your beating may continue. You will make as little noise as possible. You will look at me whenever I am in your sight. Otherwise, you will look at the floor. Should you fall and not get up, the beating will be worse. Am I understood?”

As with the night before, Sharon knew that only nodding wouldn’t suffice. She licked her lips. “Yes, Madame Hydra,” Sharon whispered.

Madame Hydra was behind her, and only the previous beatings and her own willpower kept Sharon from crying out as the whip lashed at her back. She stumbled forward and quickly moved over the drain again, steeling herself for the other hits.

By the time Madame Hydra paused, Sharon had already fallen to a knee once and was swaying uncertainly over the grill. Much of her dress had fallen in green, bloodied tatters to the floor, and she hoped to God they were done.

But it was a show of power, not a punishment. Madame Hydra couldn’t teach her a lesson and leave it at that. She had to continue until it was evident that her power over Sharon was absolute.

The narrow stick was next. Sharon fell three times, pushing herself back up each time. The hits were harder if she didn’t watch Madame Hydra when she could.

The fourth time she fell, she grunted as she stood again. It wasn’t long before she collapsed and was unable to get up after. Her arms shook as she tried, but then the rod hit her back and she fell to the ground, curling into a ball as the hits kept coming, swifter and harder as if punishing her for falling.

After that came the knife, with Madame Hydra leaning over her and making cut after cut down her arms and the visible parts of her back as Sharon gasped for breath and struggled to watch.

At long last, Madame Hydra straightened. “Does that satisfy you of our safety, Baron?”

Sharon couldn’t hear what he said over the ragged breath she took; she didn’t have the strength to turn to look at him, either. Evidently, he was satisfied, because the room slowly emptied. Madame Hydra ordered a warm bath to be prepared for Sharon. She blacked out before it arrived.

* * *

Even with all the practice she’d received in handling pain, Sharon still had difficulty remembering if she’d ever felt this much. Madame Hydra had carefully taken care of her wounds that morning and put her in one of the restrictive dresses. The dress had to be loose to prevent Sharon fainting, but Zemo was still around, and Madame Hydra didn’t want Sharon alone, and she didn’t want Sharon in a paper-thin dress with Zemo around, either.

Sharon was surprised when a large breakfast was set before her in Madame Hydra’s room, even more surprised when Madame Hydra sat and helped her eat it. Sharon’s limbs were still too shaky for her to lift the fork.

She was even more grateful for the large breakfast when she and Madame Hydra went to eat with everyone else and she was once again given bread and a slice of fruit to eat. Sharon ate it to keep up appearances, ignoring Zemo’s chuckling as he saw how weak her grip was.

She couldn’t wait for him to leave.

* * *

She counted eight breakfasts before he finally left. Enough time for most of the smaller cuts to heal and the bruises to turn yellow and green. She suspected he’d only stayed so long to mock her and revel in her weakness.

One day she was going to beat him with his own decapitated head.

Though more likely she’d just bring him to justice. Sometimes it sucked to be a good guy.

With his absence and her increasing mobility, however, Sharon was once again allowed to run chores for Madame Hydra. She noted that the communications hub had been moved, likely at Zemo’s insistence after Sharon saw it the first time. She frowned at Madame Hydra’s sending her to its new location and wondered if it was another test of her loyalty orsomething else. Still aching from the last beating, she decided not to push her luck.

The large breakfasts in the mornings became another ritual for her, though she was pleased when she was able to eat it on her own, though Madame Hydra still seemed to enjoy feeding her from time to time. With the meals in the evenings, she almost didn’t mind how little food she got in between.

It occurred to her one day that she was almost happy here.

And that was when she realized how broken she’d become, that she could be comfortable, even happy, as the pet of an enemy. A trophy following around meekly at Madame Hydra’s heels. A disgrace to Steve and her aunt and all they had fought for.

* * *

She waited until Madame Hydra fell asleep. Baron Zemo had arrived around lunchtime with news of another successful mission, though his clothes were singed and torn. Sharon was pleased to think what a close call it might have been and only wished he’d lost. But the close call was enough to upset him and keep his attention off Sharon.

Madame Hydra, a deep sleeper these days, wasn’t paying attention to her, either. Sharon carefully slid out from beneath her arm and tucked the covers around her to keep her warm. If she did this right, Madame Hydra wouldn’t notice Sharon’s absence at all.

After a short stop at Madame Hydra’s desk to mimick the woman’s writing on a note, Sharon rolled up the paper and moved silently to the door. It door was unlocked, and the guards outside ignored her as they’d been trained to do. Sharon almost grinned in amusement. By training them not to pay her any attention, Sharon could ghost amongst the HYDRA in plain sight.

Knowing she only had one chance, she set off at a brisk pace to the communications hub. Zemo didn’t know she knew about it yet. Once there, she set the paper beside one of the HYDRA agents. It was the closest she got to interacting with anyone other than Madame Hydra these days, and she was oddly pleased when the agent picked up the message after she moved away. It was almost like a conversation where they didn’t spoke and knew very little about each other, but it still made Sharon feel as if she had a connection to someone here. Of course, it was a connection to a HYDRA agent, but damn it, she’d take what she could get.

She paused in the doorway and watched as the agent started sending out the message. After all, if Madame Hydra had sent Sharon there so late at night, it must be an emergency. The agent hadn’t noticed the code embedded in the message that would alert SHIELD to the message’s sender, and if Sharon was right, sending the message would reveal the base’s location.

She hastily moved back to Madame Hydra’s room, quietly opening the door and letting herself in with no one bothering her. She slid back into bed, but Madame Hydra’s voice made her jump. “Where did you go? I woke and you were gone.”

“Bathroom,” Sharon said quietly.

“Mm.” Madame Hydra pulled her close again and fell asleep. Soon, so did Sharon.

* * *

She woke to gunshots in the hall. Disoriented and sore, still covered by Madame Hydra, she tried to jump out of bed only to fall, tangled in her sheets. Above her, Madame Hydra smoothed straightened her nightgown and made herself presentable.

When SHIELD agents crashed through the door, they found Madame Hydra sitting on her bed as if it were a throne, and Sharon sitting on the floor.

“You may take us to your leader,” Madame Hydra said dryly.

The SHIELD agents, not recognizing Sharon, waved their guns at her and barked at her to stand up. She pushed herself to her feet and caught the menacing look in Madame Hydra’s eye. She frowned at her and shook her head, quietly urging Madame Hydra not to fight back. “They’ll shoot you,” she said softly. Damn it. Why did she even care?

She followed the SHIELD agents’ directions and kept a close eye on Madame Hydra to make sure she didn’t lash out. The most worrisome moment came when one of the SHIELD agents stepped forward to handcuff her. Sharon saw Madame Hydra’s shoulders tense and stepped forward fast enough that all the guns turned on her.

“Agent 13 of SHIELD. Sharon Carter. I’ll do it,” Sharon said quietly, holding her hands out for the cuffs and adding her security clearance code. It wasn’t until Madame Hydra offered her wrists out to Sharon that the agent hesitantly handed them over. Sharon fell into step beside Madame Hydra as they walked down the hall, one hand on Madame Hydra’s arm as she followed the lead agents to the van that was taking the HYDRA agents away.

Madame Hydra eyed the van in distaste.

Sharon drew closer. “It’s temporary.”

After another moment to display her unwillingness, Madame Hydra stepped into the van.

“Sharon?” Sharon turned to find Maria Hill, dressed as SHIELD Director and her hand on her gun in case something went wrong.

“Maria. How long has it been?” Sharon pushed some hair out of her face. The night air was warm enough that the breeze didn’t bother her despite her thin nightdress.

“Long enough we thought you were dead.”

Sharon grinned, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I wondered sometimes. So we should talk about me getting counseling and getting back to work.”

Maria answered with a grin of her own. “And let’s get you back in some real clothes while we’re at it. HYDRA green doesn’t suit you.”

Sharon heard the van start and half-turned to watch it leave. Madame Hydra watched her, her gaze unwavering and expressionless.

“No, it doesn’t,” she agreed.


End file.
